


Simmer Down and Pucker Up

by impossibleamypond



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 15:03:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1309186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impossibleamypond/pseuds/impossibleamypond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her gaze flicks to his lips briefly, a small, almost contemplative furrow appearing in her brow before returning to his eyes. “How sorry are you?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simmer Down and Pucker Up

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SMUT prompt for FMA week! If the characters are a little OOC, so be it. This is smut, pure and unadulterated smut and I'm not at all sorry for it.
> 
> Also, the title is directly taken from some of my favorite Arctic Monkey lyrics.

When he finally comes stumbling through the door, half dead from exhaustion and a stack of files shoved hap-hazardously beneath his arm, he expects to find a dark, quiet apartment, not Riza standing in the kitchen, hair wet and robe cinched loosely around her waist. There’s a wine glass in her hand, a nearly empty bottle on the counter, and a kitchen table set up for two. 

He sighs, closes his eyes, and braces an arm against the doorframe. “Shit,” he breathes, banging his forehead against the wood of the frame a few times. _Idiot, idiot, you fucking idiot._ “I forgot.”

Her laugh is jagged like glass, and when he opens his eyes, he sees that hers dark and angry and just a little bit glassy. “You don’t say.” She lifts the glass to her lips, takes a deep drink. The tip of her tongue flicks out to lick the remnants from her mouth. “I hope you don’t mind that I ate without you.”

“Riza,” he says, voice full of apology as he swaggers towards her. She backs up, presses her lower back into the counter as he draws up to her in front of her. His hands reach for her hips, which she angles away from him. Roy frowns and steps even closer, slipping a leg between hers, her heat hot against his upper thigh. His fingers curl over the curve of her hip and he leans down, pressing his forehead against her temple. 

“Riza,” he murmurs softly, eyes drifting shut. “I’m sorry.”

He can feel the tension in her body, can practically sense the irritation rolling off her in waves, so when she lifts her eyes to meet his, staring at him intensely through her dark lashes, and raises one of those beautiful eyebrows at him, he’s a little surprised that she’s not hissing like a fucking dragon, puffs of smoke streaming out of her nose and all. 

Her gaze flicks to his lips briefly, a small, almost contemplative furrow appearing in her brow before returning to his eyes. “How sorry are you?” 

“What?”

“I said,” she begins, her slim fingers reaching for the collar of his jacket. She traces over the lapel with a fingertip, eyes hooded and glittering with a dark, steady intensity as she says slowly, each syllable a tease, a taunt. “How sorry are you?”

His confusion melts into a loose grin and he inches closer, slipping a hand up the length of her thigh as he lowers his head to meet her lips. Only she turns her head at the last second and his mouth lands along her jaw, right below her ear. When he tries to pull back to question her, she shakes her head minutely, shooting him a warning look. 

A sigh escapes him, the warmth of his breath playing against her neck, which she exposes to him, wet hair falling over her shoulder as she moves. He whispers her name against her skin, teasing her pulse point with a slow roll of his tongue; the nails scraping at the back of his neck are the only indication of a positive reaction, but it’s all the encouragement he needs. 

With one hand on her knee, his thumb rubbing circles deep into her skin, he raises the other to push the robe off her shoulders. It slides down her arms easily, the sleeves pooling at her wrists, the rest gathering around her waist. Her chest is bare beneath the robe, exposed, and the reaction is immediate. When he moves closer, their chests brush and he can feel the hardness of her nipples through the fabric of his shirt. His grip on her knee tightens as he drops his head to press a kiss along her collarbone then down even lower, to her sternum. 

The flat, blunted edges of his teeth scrape over her nipple as he takes her breast in her mouth, and she’s barely able to pant out her rough, ragged gasp before his mouth envelopes it. Her fingers move to tangle in the wisps of dark hair at the nape of his neck. Fingernails scrap and dig as his tongue works, rolling and teasing and so incredibly hot against her skin. An impatient noise escapes her and her fingers thread deeper into his hair, pulling and tugging until she’s angled his face away from her breast. 

For a moment, their eyes lock, black on dark brown. Glazed and cloudy. She’s a little breathless and his lips are just a little swollen. He inhales while she exhales. There’s tension between them still, an acutely edge anger hanging in the air, but then she slides her hand to the crook where his shoulder meets his neck and she pushes his head back down. His mouth continues its path as though he hadn’t stopped in the first place, the tip of his tongue carving a hot, wet path down her abdomen. 

As his fingers make quick work of the knot at her waist, she pushes his jacket off his arms and he pauses in his work to let her finish hers. Once divested of his own jacket, Roy removes her flimsy robe, pulling it from her body easily and tossing it over his shoulder. Callused fingertips dig into the skin of her hips, the coldness of his fingertips a sharp contrast to the heat his mouth emanates. His grip is tight but not unpleasant, and it’s all cold fingertips and knuckles brushing against the top of her ass as he fingers hook around the elastic of her underwear. When he tugs, she complies, lifting one thigh and then the other, one hand still on his shoulder for purchase, the other curled around the lip of the counter. 

It’s not a quick slip and toss over his shoulder like the robe was. No, it’s a process, long and slow and aching. There’s a part of her that hates him for this and the way his hands make her feel as they ghost down the length of her legs, raising goosebumps and causing her heart to hammer in her chest. A part of her hates him for the sway he has over her but there’s little she can do other than nudge his chin with her knee and make him look at her again. 

Their gazes hold even as he lowers himself closer to the ground, a hand on either of her knees, parting them slowly. 

The first kiss is gentle. Warm and soft, the tip of his nose brushing along her skin. “I’m sorry,” he says into the patch of flesh just above her knee. He turns his head slightly and his stubble scratches lightly against her skin. A jolt goes through her, causing the warmth in her stomach to sink lower and pool between her legs. She manages to choke back the whimper that threatens to escape by biting the inside of her cheek and tightening her grip on his shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry,” he mouths against her inner thigh, his mouth hotter. Wetter. Her fingers tremble as she twists her fingers into the shoulder of his shirt, spreading her legs wider so that he can situate himself between them. 

His fingers find her first, wet and waiting, and he slides two into her easily. A soft hiss escapes her and she tightens her grip on his shoulders as he twists his fingers, pushing them deep into her. He smiles at the noises falling from her lips in between her ragged breaths, stroking and teasing and thrusting. When her hips begin to move in tandem with his ministrations, he presses one last kiss to the inside of her thigh and then adds his mouth to the mix, licking her clit once, twice, three times in quick succession. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” she grunts, almost begrudgingly, as if she doesn’t want him to know that he can make her come undone with just a few more strokes of his tongue. Only he doesn’t _want_ it done and over as easily as that, so he withdraws his fingers and pulls back to lean on his haunches and stare up at her. 

“Still mad?”

Her eyes flash. “Still sorry?”

He grins hugely, a rough, husky chuckle tumbling from his lips as he goes to his knees once more and picks up where he left off, spreading her with his fingers so that he can slip his tongue inside her, thrusting as deep as he can go. Her thighs tremble as she struggles not to clamp them around his head, her fingers snaking into his hair and _pulling_ hard enough that it jolts him, throwing him off balance. He growls against her cunt, hooks a hand under her knee, and throws her leg over his shoulder, allowing for better access. 

She moans appreciatively, scooting as close to the edge of the countertop as she can without falling off. The heel of her foot digs into the middle of his back as he works his mouth over her, withdrawing his tongue from inside her to lick her clit, her lips. Again he slides his fingers into her, fucking with his fingers as he lavishes her clit with his tongue. Her breath is coming in short, higher-pitched pants, her nails scraping so hard against his scalp he swears she’s drawing blood. She grinds - against his hand, against his mouth - and he angles his head so the bridge of his nose brushes against her just so. 

The resulting bang of her head against the cabinet door startles him so much that he almost pulls back, but she grasps his head in her hands and holds him in place, a continuous string of curses and exhalations to a higher deity falling from her mouth in time with the strokes of his tongue and the thrusts of his fingers inside her. 

Then he circles her clit with his tongue, suckles on it gentle, and she clenches around him, her legs tensing and her grip on his head impossibly tight as she comes, groaning his name in a long, rough and scratchy syllable. “ _Roy._ ” 

He sees her to the end of her orgasm, thrusting his fingers into her and enjoying the way she clenches around him and steadying her when she nearly slips off the counter from the tremors rolling through her. By the time she opens her eyes and sucks in a few, much needed breaths, he’s on his feet again, his mouth level with hers and stretched into a ridiculously smug smile. 

Gently, he tucks a lock of loose blonde hair behind her ear. “I don’t know about you, but I could go for a second course,” he says as he steps closer, curling his hands beneath her knees and notching them up to his hips. 

Riza tries to glare at him, but her mind is still hazy and his hardness of his cock is pressing into her thigh and she’s not at all mad except by the fact that she’s completely naked and he’s still wearing three fourths of his clothes, so she pulls him close by the collar of his shirt and kissing him, long and deep, her steady fingers making quick work of the pesky button of his uniform.


End file.
